


Feast of Fools

by larryent



Category: Harley Quinn (Comics), Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Acrobatics, Alternate Universe - Circus, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Choking, Circus, Coming Soon - Freeform, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Gangs, Gotham City - Freeform, Harry as the Joker, Jealous Harry, Kinky, Louis as Harley Quinn, Louis in Glasses, Louis in Lace, Louis in Makeup, Louis in Panties, Louis is a Tease, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Power Bottom Louis, Rough Oral Sex, Smut, Sugar Baby Louis, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Harry, Top Harry, Violence, Zayn is poison ivy, acrobatic Louis, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:37:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryent/pseuds/larryent
Summary: The Cirque Mystique arrives to Gotham and the Clown Prince of Crime grows fond of an acrobat with electrifying blue eyes.larryent november 2018Disclaimer. Anything with a brand name are not owned by me (places/characters).





	1. 0. Feast of Fools

**Author's Note:**

> Hi honeybuns ! instead of updating my current stories, i'm making a mess of myself and posting a new one rip me. anyway, i have had this idea saved for a while and i hope you all enjoy it.  
> Obviously, i don't own harley quinn or the joker and basically anything with a brand name.
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> > smut  
> > cross dressing (louis in panties)  
> > murder, and stuff like that  
> > daddy kink

"Sorry, hun. I don't date city folk." Louis flicks his fringe from his face and spins around, his back facing the man.

"City folk?" The voice asks. "Please, darlin', I'm rather a prince than just simple citizen."

Louis hums thoughtfully. His muscular legs carry him to the center of the stage, where two long strips of black silk hang. He wraps his waist with the fabric once and hauls himself off the ground. Taking a last look back at the tall man, "Prince of what?"

The man tips his red velvet top hat with a smirk stretching along his red lips, "Gotham."

With a last pondering glance at the man, Louis begins climbing. He can almost feel the man's eyes burning through his tight leggings right to his skin. He pulls himself higher and higher on the silk, spinning, and twirling until he's almost at the bars that hold the fabric to the ceiling of the tent.

"What do you say, pumpkin pie?" The man calls out, his deep voice reaching Louis' ears warmly. "Will you allow me to court you tonight?"

Louis concentrates on tightening the fabric around his upper thigh to where it crosses to his waist and then grasping on the material with a tight grip. "Prince or not, I'd rather date someone who I have a lot in common with."

"As in?"

"The circus," Louis answers with a small smile. He wishes he could see the man's face, but it's blocked by the brim of his hat.

"This may surprise you, darlin' but I'm no stranger to that particular art form." The man then begins walking to the stage, up the few steps and finally to the base of the silk fabric. "I'm no aerial dancer but what I can do may interest you."

"What can you do?" Louis flexes his fingers.

"I'm a master escapist."

At that exact moment, Louis loosens his grip on the silk and that sends him gracefully spinning down, as the fabric around his waist remains. He falls within the blink of an eye and lands right before the man, their noses barely brushing. The man himself doesn't seem the least bit fazed when Louis swipes his hat right off his head. Using his free hand, Louis props it atop his hair, before grinning at the incredibly handsome stranger.

"You sure are something." The man says softly as if any abrupt movement would disrupt the little creature on the silk.

"I'll tell you what," Louis allows his feet to connect with the floor with a quiet thump. "You prove to me if you are a master escapist," he rolls his eyes, "and I'll let you take me out."

The man licks his lips, eyes trailing over the creamy skin of Louis' lovely prominent collarbones. "Deal."

Just when Louis is about to ask the man for his name, the latter smacks the front brim of the hat on Louis' head, covering the boy's eyes. Huffing and taking off the hat, Louis holds it out but is left stunned as the stranger is no longer standing before him, nor around him, nor anywhere in the whole tent. Louis spins in a circle, confused and clenches the velvet hat tightly.

The man may not be an escapist for all Louis knows but he's quiet and fast. Like a butterfly.


	2. 1. Living For the Lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy. This chapter took a different turn than I expected it to but I think I'm happy with it. Love u all :^)

Louis lived for attention. He fed for the dozens of eyes on him, watching and observing his every move. He lived for the blazing lights casting over his skin, the callouses he would develop after swinging on his trapeze, and the softness of the silk brushing along his freshly shaven legs as he twirled and spun twenty feet in the air.

But most of all, he lived for his lovers. He was no stranger in the bedroom, in his case, his small trailer. He knew the ropes of sex and Louis knew how to use his taunting body, by saying the right words in a sultry tone to get anyone in his bed.

Of course, having sex is different from dating.

Sex has passion, a need and a desire for a person. Bodies intertwining and lips meeting in haste and lust filled moment.

On the other hand, dating needs effort. It grows off commitment and devotion to a person.

Though sex and dating had one thing in common, and that was intimacy. Closeness acted as a mandatory element to any relationship and Louis was one for being close with someone else. He always strived for the attention and comfort of another. Those moments were short-lived and he would get bored and move onto the next person willing to give Louis their utmost care and regard.

That was why Louis loved the circus—it was always moving. Traveling from one town to another just only to leave three or four days later. He adored the upper hand his occupation gave him, allowing him to make mistakes in a tiny town he'll never be in again, with people he'll never meet again.

"Daydreaming again?"

Louis blinks rapidly, then quickly looks down. Right below his feet was a familiar tall man with dark brown hair. "Always daydreaming, Zayn."

Zayn didn't hide his concern. "You alright? Mr. Payne said you should practice the trapeze. He doesn't want a repeat of Lowe."

The blue-eyed man ignores his friend's comment. "Tell Mr. Ringmaster that I don't need practice." Louis retorts, gracefully untangling himself from the silk hanging from the ceiling. "I am nothing like Lowe." As his feet made contact with the floor of the stage, he and Zayn meet face to face. More like face to chin actually, Zayn was taller than Louis, much like everyone else the curvy boy ever met.

"You know Liam, he nags." The taller of the two pats Louis' shoulder. "Best be if you just do as he says."

A cloud fades over Louis' eyes, his vision losing focus momentarily. "The last time I followed what anyone said, it landed me in rehab." 

Zayn opens his mouth to speak but shuts it quickly. His eyebrows furrow as his pink lips dip at the corners into a frown. "Are you finally going to tell me what happened between you two?" He asks softly.

Louis blinks down at his feet. All his confidence seeming to wash away like sand on a rock by a shoreline. He can't stand his friend's worrying expression and cowers away from Zayn, shrinking on himself then clearing his throat to fill the silence. "No."

Zayn doesn't find much comfort in the short and choppy answer. "It's been a few months—"

"Nine. It's been nine months."

The brown-eyed man gulps. "So more than a few." He concludes. "The point is, it's been a long time and you've been out of rehab for four months."

Feeling unbelievably bare an vulnerable, Louis does what he's always done when met with conflict. He runs. He wasn't proud of his instinct being flight rather than fight, but he felt powerless under pressure. He hated it. With a huff and a shrug, Louis walks away to the back of the main stage.

"You're safe with me." His friend calls out.

The blue-eyed boy turns around quickly and avoids Zayn's eyes. "Where are we headed to now?"

"We arrive in New Jersey tomorrow night and then we're off to Gotham."  
  
  
  
  


"Jeez, took you long enough." Kevin Lemon, the elite businessman, and millionaire, enters the white car with a huff. "I have my wife waiting at home with dinner and you chose to take your sweet ass time." Kevin scoffs when the back door with the dark tinted windows don't open. He leans into the open window, with annoyance in his tone. "Are you going to open the door?"

The man has a black surgical mask over his mouth. His eyes covered by sunglasses, even though it was well into nightfall. "Back is full. Sit in the shotgun." His words are short and chopped before his face turns to towards the road.

Kevin scoffs loudly, checking his watch and begrudgingly swings open the passenger door. He settles and places his briefcase by his feet. Out of displeasure, Kevin slams the door shut then looks over his shoulder, seeing a large black tarp covering the back seats. "What the hell you got back there?"

The driver doesn't answer, he only starts the car and begins driving.

In the tension-filled silence, Kevin breathes out heavily. Then he turns to the open window as the cold breeze of Gotham welcomes him. He watches the streetlights pass in a blurred mixture of lights, the small businesses have their windows dark with signs on the doors. As he quickly recognizes the area of the shopping center and the local movie theatre, he expects to turn into his home-road but instead, the car continues down the street.

"Where are you going?" Kevin looks back at his road. Facing the driver, the latter with his dead eyes set on the street. "Hey! You missed my turn."

The man only glances at him through the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me, do you know who I am? I can make you go bankrupt." Kevin furiously threatens.

Finally, the car comes to a stop. Though it's by the local dock, and there's a fog ghosting over the motionless lake. Kevin has had enough and goes to open the door, but is struck in his face. He blinks rapidly, regaining his vision just as a dark green fog starts to rise from within vents. The driver watches as Kevin loses consciousness as he flips up a dial on his mask before punching Kevin again, this time the man's slamming against the glass and cracking it.

 

 

Kevin abruptly wakes up, finding his face in the lake and water quickly entering his lungs. Then, he's yanked out of the lake a moment later before he's roughly shoved into the car again, in the driver's seat this time.

He groans and rubs his eyes, and through his blurry vision, he sees a tall man. He had bright red lips stretched up in a terrifying grin and a velvet black suit fitting to his build.

"Good evening, Mr. Lemon."

Kevin's breath halts as he comes to realization, and as if on cue to the fear building up in his stomach, the man tips his top hat.

"Assuredly, you know who I am." The tall man grins, white teeth glimmering in the moonlight. He stands at six feet, towering over the four men in costumes arranged behind him, as more are scattered across the dock, all appearing to be patrolling the perimeter. By the tall man's sides were all wielding their weapons of their choosing. One dressed in a mascot of sorts with a sledgehammer hanging off his shoulder. Two of the men were wearing masks, one of a cheap Halloween wolf and the other of a baby and both had shotguns in their grasp. The last man was wearing a burlap sack with eye-holes cut out, he was holding a shiny axe.  

Kevin is petrified and quickly attempts to shuffle away from the man, only to be shoved forward by a man in the passenger seat next to him. In between is uneven pants, Kevin coughs, his voice wavering. "Please, Joker! I—I have a wife. She's pregnant."

Harry laughs, loud. His eyes crinkling at the corners as careless amusement spreads across his white painted face. "Tell me, Lemon... Do you love your wife?" He takes a hand out of his pocket, thus revealing Kevin's gold wedding ring. "The same woman waiting for you at home, with dinner on the table. The woman pregnant with your child." Harry tosses it in the air and catches it swiftly.

"Yes!" Kevin's tone is high.

Harry chuckles bitterly. "Is that why you are leaving your secretary's house? On this Sunday night missing your tie and your belt?"

Kevin's demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. He's no longer pleading and desperate, but rather irritated. "What do you want, Joker?"

His words cause Harry's smile to widen, as an uneasy gleam appears in his green eyes. "I think you know what I want." He tilts his head, and with his demonic grin, he resembles a crazed clown. "I want the blueprints to every bank in Gotham. Your prized company, Windsor Enterprises renovated every bank in the city."

Kevin ever so obviously glances at his briefcase by the Joker's feet. "I don't have them with me."

"Tsk, tsk. You are a terrible liar, Lemon." Harry then snaps his fingers and Kevin's briefcase passed right by his face and is forced open with a sledgehammer. Then with an open palm, and a single tap of his foot, a small hard drive is placed into Harry's hand. "This holds the digital copy of the blueprints."

Kevin lunges for Harry, only to be held by and a rough fist sends his vision blurry once again. "You can't open them without the code."

Harry sighs softly, before surging forward and forces Kevin's ring into his mouth. With psychotic eyes, Harry demands, "Swallow it." He squeezes Kevin's nose shut and holds his hand over the man's mouth. "Do it." He presses further after Kevin struggles.

With tears in his eyes, Kevin swallows the wedding ring. "If you kill me, you're only leading the Bat right to your doorstep."

Then, Harry hops off him with a hum. "Your threats don't frighten me. Rather the opposite actually." The Joker adjusts himself in his pants. "I am feeling rather aroused at the moment, Lemon. I love a game of cat and mouse, though in most cases, I am the cat." 

"You need help."

"Ah, the go-to words of someone about to die from my hand." Harry fixes his rings on his hand clad in a bright green knuckle-less glove. "You see, Lemon, the chase relies on energy but what really matters is the journey. The journey to hide, the journey to survival and the journey to the end." He then hands off the hard drive and takes a tablet from one of his goons, and hides the screen in his chest. "And I found a short detour into mayhem that I quite enjoy." Then he faces the screen to Kevin.

On one half of the screen, it's his wife. The camera is focused on her through a window in the kitchen, as she sits at the dinner table alone. And the other half of the screen is his secretary, she's asleep but the camera is in her apartment this time. And from the view it shows, Kevin knows it's placed in her closet, facing the bed where he was just a few hours ago.

"Now, Mr. Lemon. I want that code you spoke about." Harry sing-songs. "Unless, you want two—pardon me, counting the little baby, it would be three of the most important people in your life to die." He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, watching Kevin's face carefully. "One of them is your wife, pregnant and waiting for your arrival at home." Harry looks at the man who remained emotionless. "It's depressing, how you choose to spend your free nights with your young secretary."

With no reply from Kevin, Harry continues. "Your wife cooks and cleans for you, she helps you through your addictions." That makes Kevin stiff, Harry once again smiles with his reaction. "Oh, you think your poorly hidden cocaine addiction isn't known by the public?"

Harry snaps his fingers and in the blink of an eye, a baggie of white powder is placed in his free palm. As if almost instantly, Kevin's eyes zoom in on the baggie.

"You want this?" Harry dangles it between Kevin's eyes, the man's stare trained on it. "Give me the code, Lemon."

Kevin could almost feel his mouthwatering but snaps out of his trance. "Fuck you."

Harry gasps, even though he felt the opposite of offended. "Give me the codes, and you can have this." The Joker swings the baggie back and forth, regaining all Kevin's attention for a short moment.

"98RW4," Kevin mutters.

Harry hums quietly and watches as one of his goons flip open a laptop and insert the hard drive. He types in the code and all are met with a red error message.

Harry grunts with annoyance and swings his fist back before landing a solid fist on Kevin's nose. As Kevin let's out a pained groan, the Joker smirks. He then returns for another punch and marvels in the satisfying crack from his force. Adding a final punch to Kevin's already damaged face, hitting him square in the face. Blood now pouring from a cut on the bridge of his nose as well as from his nostril.

"My patience is wearing thin, Lemon. Give me the code." Harry's cold green eyes are a warning enough and Kevin whispers out the code.

"OD61R."

And to Harry's advantage, the code is correct and he's met with the files of all the blueprints.

Harry let's out a loud shout and grins. He sighs in content before speaking. "Now, I want you to choose, Lemon." Harry takes the tablet once more. "Your choices are between your wife, your mistress and your addiction." He holds a baggie in his free hand. "You have one minute."

Kevin struggles against his restrainer's grip. "I gave you what you want!"

"Oh, but you didn't give me what I need." Harry drops to his knees. "Just like you, Lemon, I need pleasure, I need satisfaction." Harry gazes up at Kevin from under the brim of his hat. "Choose, Lemon. Give me that high you strive for with your mistress and as you did with your addiction."

"You're insane."

Harry simply laughs. "And you are running out of time."

Kevin's face becomes a deeper shade of red as he blinks rapidly. He breathes heavily, eyeing the tablet showing his awaiting wife and his sleeping mistress, then to Harry's other hand that holds the baggie.

"My wife," Kevin says in desperation. "I choose my wife."

Harry leans away with a wink. "Wise choice, Lemon."

Harry doesn't remove the tablet from Kevin's view. As he watches the camera move from its position in the closet and stalks closer to his secretary. Her screams ring out from the speakers as Kevin shuts his eyes before they are forced open by a goon's fingers. He watches her get stabbed by a sharp knife, and the blood spatter on the sheets as the life drain from her eyes.

"Beautiful. Isn't it, Lemon?" Harry smiles. "Death be the ultimate gift."

Kevin had tears streaming down his face.

"Look at the blood on the sheets where you fucked her." Harry holds the tablet closer. "Where you betrayed your wife." Harry uses the tablet to slap Kevin's face, bursting out into laughter as the man's head is forced to face away. In return, Kevin spits to his side and it lands on the leather seats of the car. He turns to Harry, with a defeated look in his eyes.

"You're going to hell."

Harry braces both his hands on Kevin's face, forcing the man to maintain eye contact with him.

"I'll see you there, Lemon." The Joker swipes a finger along the open wound on Kevin's nose, then bringing it to his mouth.

Kevin is utterly bewildered and looks mortified. "You're fucking sick."

Harry is unnerved by his words, sucking the blood off his finger and smirking sadistically. "And you, Mr. Lemon, are sour." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what you think!!


	3. 2. Mad People Are Artists.

Louis wakes up to light rain pattering on his window. He yawns and reaches to his nightstand, before grabbing his phone. Checking the time and it was just before seven in the morning. He still had about an hour before breakfast was served and flops back onto the bed but he doesn't expect to hear a grunt.

"Sorry," Louis sits up again, shuffling to rest his back on the headboard. "I thought I was alone.

The man follows suit and laughs tiredly. He runs a hand through his messy bright blond hair and smiles. "Last night was.."

"Amazing." Louis fills in. He yawns and stretches, catching a glimpse of the man's wandering eyes. "What's your name again?"

"Ames Montgomery." The man holds out his hand, just like he did last night when they first met. "And you are Louis."

"Tomlinson." The blue-eyed boy licks his lips. "It's only fair you know mine as well." 

"Tomlinson." Ames echoes. "Where are you heading tonight?"

Louis thinks for a moment, "Gotham city."

"Are you serious?"

"Why?" Louis slouches.

Ames blinks profusely. "For starters, it has one of the highest crime rates in the country. Gangs run the city rather than the law enforcement." His eyebrows draw together, and a frown forms in his face. "Just last week, a bank was robbed and a block of a hospital was held hostage."

"How do you know all this?" Louis rolls out of bed and stretches his arms over his head. "Do you live there?"

"My dad is the mayor."   
  
  


 

"—he is cynical and dangerous. He has no values or virtues. He needs to be locked up in a cage."

"Dr. Bellamy, are you saying the Joker is equivalent to a wild animal?"

The man in thick-framed glasses shakes his head with a humourless chuckle. "Animals in the wild kill for survival, he kills for sport. It's something he does just for the sake of doing it." Dr. Bellamy struggles to find the right words. "He's the Angel of Death."

"You are a renown psychologist, what would you say the Joker needs, in here." The talk show host taps a finger on his temple.

"Counselling." Dr. Bellamy nods curtly. "There's nothing for him to gain other than fear. He strives off it. He's a sick man, he needs proper counseling."

The talk show host folds his hands over his desk, and eyes the doctor. "From everything you've seen of the Joker and his doing, whether in the paper or on a news channel; in one word, how would you describe the Joker, Dr. Bellamy?"

"Mad. He's mad."  
  
  


 

Being mad was being smart, in Harry's mind. Being the maddest in the room meant being the smartest in the room.

Harry saw the twisted mind as beautiful and complex. The more messed up and scrambled, the more enchanting it was.

Mad minds thought outside of the box, taking count of every single colour and creating a masterpiece. Techniques were weapons and paint was blood—and mad people were artists.

And, Harry thought of himself as their creator, their idol. The first artist and the ideal vision.

 

 

When Louis arrives in Gotham, he expected a city with a dark aura and strangers with dimmed faces. He didn't expect to almost get run over by a shimmery purple Lamborghini.

It was just before midnight when Louis was on a quick trip to a convenience store when he hears the loud hum of an engine. He stands in the middle of the empty street when two bright headlights shine in the distance. It's two seconds later when Louis jumps out of the way and crashes onto the sidewalk when the shiny purple Lamborghini zooms passed him. Almost immediately after, a slim black car follows it.

Louis is left stunned with a slight ringing in his ears. He sits on the hard concrete, breathing heavily and eyes wide as he watches the purple Lamborghini pull over on the large bridge structure. The driver opens the door and climbs onto the bridge fence. All Louis' blood runs cold as he jumps to his feet and sprints to the bridge. As the black car pulls up on the bridge, the driver of the Lamborghini jumps. Louis blinks helplessly as he catches no last glimpse of the driver. His eyes searching the rushing water but to no avail.

His gaze draws him back to the driver of the black car, and from the distance and slight fog, Louis knows the man is looking at him. So he runs back to where the rest of the circus is.

Louis never ran that fast in his life.

 

 

When Louis gets back to the rest of the circus, he spots a familiar face standing by his trailer. "Ames," Louis calls out, as the man faces him with a small smile that shines in the moonlight. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see if you got here all right." Ames furrows his brows. "You look," he pauses, "a little disheveled."

Louis clears his throat, avoiding the man's eyes. "Yeah, it's late. I'm just a little tired." Louis reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. "Travelling." He mutters.

"Okay." Ames nods once and stands off to the side, he watches Louis unlock his trailer and swing the door open. "I'll see you tomorrow night for the first show."

The light tone of Ames's voice makes the weight lift off Louis' shoulders. "Wait," he exclaims. "Do you want to come inside? I could fix us up some drinks."

A charming smirk makes its way onto Ames' face. "I thought you'd never ask."

That night in the arms of a handsome man named Ames, Louis tries to forget what he witnessed. Gotham City gave him chills and it was only his first day. He falls asleep, thinking of the man who could be floating dead in the lake.


	4. 3. I am a creator. I write myself every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for abandoning this book. i really love it and i am hoping to update often.

It was the first day of Cirque Mystique's stay in Gotham. The chilling air of the dark city slips from the crack in Louis' window, robbing the warmth of his trailer. He wakes up alone in his bed, his nude body contrasting against the red sheets. He sighs, remembering the previous night's heated activities between him and Ames. Louis isn't the type to date, he rarely has slept with the same person twice but Ames was so kind, his touches were tender and Louis could feel the chemistry between them.

He finds a tiny note on the fridge in his trailer,  _I have some errands to run before I see you tonight. Don't forget to eat breakfast :) —Ames_

Louis' heart warms at Ames' consideration, he was a sweet man but Louis preferred hot spice over sugary honey. His past was about remaining a witty character to those he met, his life was about creating different personalities in different cities. He wasn't permanent in any sense and he was content with living like that. Though, Ames and his charming smile and lingering touches made Louis feel warm.

Louis dresses in a pair of thick sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. He attempts to fix his hair in the tiny mirror in his bathroom then makes a bowl of oatmeal. After slipping on his shoes, he leaves his trailer. The door creaking loudly as it swings open and Louis yawns, taking a scoop of his hot oatmeal and walks over to his familiar friend who is having a cigarette on the stairs of his trailer that's parked next to Louis'.

"Hey," Louis' morning voice is raspy but high pitched. "You want to go to the city today?"

Zayn hums, watching as the largest circus tent is set up. The red and white tarp emanating a mysterious aura with the fog of Gotham. "Mr. Payne wants us to train today." He lets out a long sigh. "He said we can go sightseeing on Friday."

"I have to wait three days to explore this dingy city?" Louis sits next to Zayn, leaning on the latter for support. "I just want to find a bar, get wasted and have a good time."

"I know you do." Is Zayn's reply.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Gotham police have suggested for all citizens to remain indoors for the next few nights concerning safety following the two gruesome murders. Adding to the long list of a total of eight names of victims in the past two weeks. Police have susp—" there was static.

Zayn stands and moves the antennas until the radio hosts voice is clear again.

"—disappearance is connected to the death of Kevin Lemon. Lemon's body was found dead and handcuffed to his car at the Port of Gotham Lake. In his trunk were over twenty pounds of rocks and decomposed body parts of unknown citizens. After an autopsy, Lemon's wedding was found in his digestive system. Lemon's secretary, Janet Lane was found murdered in her apartment the day after—" Zayn switches it off.

Louis and Zayn give each other a look of fear. Louis' was far deeper than his friends because the memories from last night came rushing in like a tidal wave. He's begged himself to not remember the purple car that almost ran him over. Zayn has no clue of what Louis witnessed, of the man in black who stared Louis down until he ran for his life.

"We can't stay here," Zayn reads Louis' mind, his calm demeanor morphing into a panicked state. "What the hell is up with this city?"

Louis gulps nervously. "Eight people." His voice cracks and he curls closer to a throw pillow on Zayn's couch. He and Zayn were hiding in his trailer, avoiding Mr. Payne and listening to the radio. Now they felt uneasy, Gotham wasn't a safe place.

Zayn looks at Louis with a bewildered expression. "In two weeks." His tone lowers. "We have to tell Mr. Payne."

"He's not going to cancel the shows. We sold out three nights." Louis shivers. He knows exactly how money-driven his Ringmaster is. He squeezes his eyes shut, remembering how pissed Mr. Payne was when Zayn announced Louis' admission to rehab and then months later when Mr. Payne ushered Louis into the spotlight on the day he returned from rehab. Louis has almost snapped his neck trying to spin on the silk after months of not practicing. Mr. Payne was a selfish man.

"No one is going to see us if there's a warning from police," Zayn says with high hopes. "They wouldn't risk anything like that."  
  
  
  
  
  


It turns out the people of Gotham don't care for the curfew, or they are used to the crime in the city. Louis tries to not shiver as the sun sets and the chatter outside the main tent becomes louder. People came with their children and Louis watches in horror as they smile and eat cotton candy. Lights in shades of blue, yellow, and red cast on the dirt ground. Men on stilts stand by the large opening of the red and white tent, welcoming the adults and small children. Their faces painted with cherry cheeks and lips, blue paint heavy emphasis on their eyes.

The Cirque Mystique was popular and long-awaited in Gotham and the long line outside the tent was enough to make Louis jittery.

"You feeling okay?" Zayn asks with a small frown of concern. "Besides... you know," he trails off.

Louis agrees, they shouldn't speak of the city's crime in front of their colleagues. He and Zayn had talked before and concluded that if everyone found out, a riot would break loose and Mr. Payne wouldn't be happy finding out Louis is behind it. He shakes his head, a familiar itch making him pick at the loose thread of his pale pink costume. "Ames is coming."

Zayn makes a short  _hmph_. "Is he the guy you've been sneaking into your trailer?" He saw Louis with the tall man.

Louis rolls his eyes, flinching when Zayn's fingernail gets a little too close to his eye. "I met him only twice."

"That's double the time you give anyone." The brown-eyed man mutters, leaning back to survey his work.

Louis' cheekbones are dusted with glimmering glitter, it stretched to his temples and into his hairline. Hearts stamped under both his eyes that were framed with a white liner. His lips coated with a deep maroon lipstick.

"Ten minutes till first opening!" One of the managers shout, and the backstage becomes more hectic as always.

"That's you," Louis says quietly. Zayn was the lead trapeze artist, he opened the show because it always got the excitement burrowing in the tent. Everyone loved Zayn and to watch his lean body swing from the metal straps or short horizontal bars. He could spin and fly in the air, his art requiring more practice, trust, and people than Louis'.

His friend adds more glitter on Louis' collarbones. "I know," he tries to calm Louis' nerves with a small smile. "I'll tell you if I see Ames."  
  
  
  
  
  


"Good evening citizens of Gotham, and welcome to the Cirque Mystique!" Mr. Payne announces with a loud and deep voice that booms over the crowd's cheers. The ringmaster is dressed in a long red coat lined with gold ribbon and shiny black buttons. His black velvet top hat decorated with a red tie on one side. "We are here to bring you an enchanting night of magic, tension and things you've never seen before. We are here to prove that art isn't only a form of self-expression, but a way of life. My circus and I are more than happy to show you our ways of living in the form of things beyond your untamed hypnotic dreams."  
  
  
  
  
  


A tall man sits at the end of a row with his hands clasped and watching the Ringmaster entertains a small group of children. Parents laugh and watch in delight as their children speak about themselves. The man's green eyes zero on the pale woman a few rows ahead. She stands from her seat, looking around the tent before walking toward an exit.

Harry clenches his fists, eyeing the woman as she walks past him. He stands, his goons scattered in the crowd following his lead and blocking the exit after him. Gotham was dark at night, even with the streetlights and towering bright buildings. Though, the circus was set up along the outskirts of the city, close by the Gotham bridge and far from any neighbourhood.

"Isn't it frowned upon to smoke with children nearby?"

The blonde woman jumps, almost dropping her newly lit cigarette. She lets out a deep breath from her nose. "Joker, isn't a circus a bit too cliche to be your hang out?" Her black-painted lips stretch into a smile. "Though, without your clown make-up, I'd say you don't look like you belong here."

Harry's face was a lively shade of pink. His lips a permanent shade of peach-pink. He laughs bitterly, knowing fully well that the loud music booming from the speakers and cheering crowd would drown the woman's screams. "You act confident and clever though I can smell the fear you radiate." He takes a taunting step toward her, the woman standing her ground as a bead of sweat appears on her brow.

"Tell me, Tiffany, do you believe in forgiveness?" He gives her no time to answer. "Personally, forgiveness without vengeance is the ultimate sin. I bask in the thought of revenge, of upholding satisfaction in a form of payback. It's a waste to forgive and not give anything in return, celebrate the fact that people mess up, only to give them another chance without any consequences." He snatches the cigarette from her hand and crushes it under his boot. "It's an endless circle, to be walked on, to be taken advantage of."

"You may call me pessimistic, I call myself experienced. I've been through shit, I've seen the world's monsters at hand, fought them, came out victorious and now I rule them." Harry's voice drawls out into the dead of night. "Tiffany, you are one of those monsters who escaped your death at my hand."

The blonde woman gulps, keeping her cold demeanor strong though Harry could see it crumble. Her brown eyes glare at him.

Harry calmly steps towards the cowardly woman. "In your novels, you write me as a criminal mastermind, I believe you named me the Antichrist. Those are flattering, but when you call me evil," Harry laughs, and there's not an ounce of warmth in it. "I call myself many names, evil is not one of them. Evil is a villain in a fictitious movie, a character with the red eyes and a stupid plan of domination that fails. I'm more than a character. I am a creator. I write myself every day." He corners her against the tent and metal fence, he hisses, "You think I'm evil, but even evil would be afraid of me."

Tiffany whimpers and Harry slowly brushes the hair from her face. "You see, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to scare you, to give you nightmares that force you under my submission." He smiles, wickedly so. "I've been watching you closely, and I want you to help me with a project I'm working on."

Tiffany speaks, her voice holding only a sliver of the confidence she once had. "What is it?" She spits. "Robbing a bank? Setting a hospital a flame?"

The Joker chuckles, stuffing his hand into his pocket before pulling out a piece of paper. "Those are far too mediocre for me. I understand your father is the manager of the power-plants on the West side of Gotham. Mara Industries." He holds out the paper, and Tiffany takes it with hesitation.

"What do you want me to do?" She asks, not daring to look him in his eyes. She tries to read the paper in the dim light.

"I want you to get me access to all the power-plants your father manages, and once you do that, you will give my men everything I need at this location in one week," He points to the paper. "If you follow my instructions," He flips it over, revealing a photograph of a brown-haired man walking across a street. "I won't order for the death of your brother."

Tiffany breaks at that, her hand clasping over her mouth and eyes watering.

"He's in Chicago now, studying to be a teacher." Harry tilts his head, watching the woman shake. "You know how much he dreamed of teaching, you begged him to study here but he wanted freedom. He wanted to be away from you, his hovering older sister. You grew up with the fear that he would disappear out of the blue just like your mother." Tiffany swings her hand back, aiming for Harry's face but he catches it and tightens his hold. "If you want to keep your fingers and brother safe, you'll do as I say and not raise your hand at me again, Ms. Mara."

Tiffany clenches her teeth.

Harry digs his nails into her skin. "Do you think that saving his life will make up for what you said the night he left you?"

"Yes."

"He will unknowingly forgive you," Harry speaks. "Forgive you without revenge." He tsks. "Maybe I'll let this one slide, if you do what I say and not a thing different."

"Fine," She says after a few beats, yanking her hand away from the Joker's grip. "Just don't hurt him. Please."

"That's sweet, you care for him. People are too sensitive and I want to change that." Harry's red lips stretch into their signature smirk. "Not like I can conquer the world now, though I can start with my city. I believe Gotham needs a little spice, and I'm going to give the city what it craves."

**Author's Note:**

> any thoughts?


End file.
